


say it softly

by saturngaze



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, POV Outsider, and isn’t that what REALLY matters?, but i tried, for my secret santa!!, this is lowkey shitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 22:57:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17089325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturngaze/pseuds/saturngaze
Summary: When we talk, you say it softly, but I love it when you’re awfully quiet...OR: the outsider POV that I wrote for my secret santa





	say it softly

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to follow me on another platform, my tumblr is @ethereal-eddie!

Ever since I started working at Patsy’s, I’ve been sort of a wallflower.

College was beginning to kick my ass when it came to finances, to the point that I barely had enough money to pay for a night out with the friends that I had made on my floor, so I decided that the best course of action was to get a job at the twenty-four-hour diner that was right across the street from my dorm building. It was the cutest little place; squat on the outside, yet warm and cozy with the feeling of a fifty’s sock hop on the inside. The hours weren’t the best, but the pay was good, and I figured that a few late shifts at three in the morning was better than having no money at all.

That being said, however, I was always privy to the strangest of people coming in at god-awful hours of the night, mostly college students that ordered three plates of blueberry pancakes due to their being high off their asses. Once, there was a guy that looked like he had jumped straight out of a Macy’s catalog who asked for a bag of ice because his recent tattoo (which was in an unmentionable place) was hurting him. Conversations with the old locals was one of my favorite parts of the job, getting to hear about their stories of them in high school and how Patsy’s used to be an old hookah shop until the owner died of lung cancer.

Despite all of the interesting characters I met, the most intriguing was a group that came in at one in the morning on a Tuesday in October.

I remember that night, how they had burst into the shop, just when I was thinking that no one else would be coming in. Amanda, my coworker, had asked if I could cover her shift, and I, ever the people pleaser, had agreed with a tight smile that was soon swallowed by a yawn. A lanky, auburn-haired man held the door open as the rest of who I assumed were his friends stumbled through the entrance. The first to enter was a beautiful redhead that was hanging off the shoulder of an uptight looking man with curls sitting messily atop his head. Her piercing blue eyes scanned the tables with a scrutinizing gaze, and she whispered something into the ear of her friend (partner?) before deciding on a booth directly in front of the large, glass-stained window. The curly haired boy, who looked out of place next to the girl because of his prep-boy stature, only smiled and followed her without saying another word. The next person I noticed was a burly, dark-skinned man, who smiled brightly at the lights of the diner and, presumably, the boy that had just entered before him. Right after came a stocky young man with red cheeks, who ran ahead to the booth to take a seat next to the girl, followed by the one who had been holding the door open for the rest of the group.

The five friends talked to each other in relatively loud voices, so I could hear them from my position at the cash register while I was getting ready to take their orders. “Where the fuck are they? I swear they were right behind us when we left,” huffed the one with curly hair. 

The redhead laughed and threw an arm around her friend. “Who wants to bet that they got caught up making out on Dean Russo’s car?”

Just as a chorus of ‘me!’s rang through the air, the bell above the front entrance chimed, announcing the arrival of two new patrons, their looking windswept and their cheeks red. The girl hollered, and one by one the rest of the group made kissing noises at the couple, one of whom buried his face in the other’s shoulder.

“Dean Russo kick you off of his car?” asked the blonde kid, and the two both nodded reluctantly before taking a seat right next to each other. I thought that now was as good a time as any to go and take their orders, so, grabbing my pad and pen, I made my way to their booth.  
I was greeted with smiles, and so I smiled back before clearing my throat to speak. “May I take your orders?” I groaned internally, knowing that I probably sounded extremely awkward; I was still getting used to talking to college students that I had never met before. Despite my internal conflict, they all nodded eagerly, shyly (and, for some, exuberantly) saying varied degrees of yes.

It wasn’t long until I served them, and they asked me to sit with them and talk. At the time, it seemed like a weird request, but they were so kind so I couldn’t find it in myself to decline. After I tugged off my apron and pulled a chair up to the edge of the booth, the only girl in the group began to introduce each of them one by one.

“I’m Beverly, Bev, your next girlfriend! Whatever you wanna call me!” I laughed at her introduction, and she nodded in satisfaction. “This,” she continued, pointing at the curly haired man be that sat on her right, “is Stanley the Manly, affectionately makes by our one and only Richie Tozier.” She then pointed at one of the men that had walked in late, specifically the taller one with a mess of hair on his head. “Eddie is Richie’s boyfriend, and together they make the most disgustingly cute couple you will ever see.” Eddie, who had freckles decorating his face, waved at me with a shy smile. “Mike—“ she pointed at the dark-skinned man “— is Stan’s boyfriend, Bill is his best friend, and Ben is our group’s honorary mother.”

Richie cut in quickly, leaning over the table so he could see me from around Eddie. “We are the Losers’ Club!”

I raised my eyebrows in question, and Ben smiled. “We named it ourselves. We’ve been the Losers’ Club since we were thirteen.”

“You guys have all been friends since you were kids?”

Mike nodded proudly. “Yep! We all decided to go to university together. Don’t know how I’d survive without these guys.”

I got to know them pretty well, from how Richie was majoring in film (just like me) to the fact that Mike was a star football player for the Huskies, our football team. They were extremely comfortable with each other, always making mildly deprecating comments about each other, and I longed to have friends like them.

I hoped that, maybe, I could become good friends with these people who I found extremely interesting.

-

The Losers’ Club made it a habit to enter Patsy’s every Tuesday, ordering the same dishes every single time. For Mike, it was a shitty rendition of huevos rancheros; Stan always glanced at the menu scrutinizingly before deciding on an everything bagel topped with lox; Beverly favored the Homestyle french toast; Ben and Bill always shared a stack of cinnamon pancakes drowned in maple syrup. The only ones who didn’t keep their routine orders were Richie and Eddie, always sharing a plate of something that Richie had picked in an over-excited haze. I remember asking Eddie about it on one of their trips, and he said that he only ever shared with his boyfriend because he knew it would make Richie happy (“...but don’t ever tell him I said that.”)

I had gotten so used to seeing them on Tuesdays that I was mildly startled when Richie and Eddie came in on a Friday night in December, hands entangled in the pocket of Richie’s large winter coat and scarves covering their mouths. Richie was talking animatedly, waving his free arm around as he tried to explain something that I couldn’t quite hear to Eddie. The night was fairly busy and I was already waiting four other tables, so I made Amanda take their orders, and it wasn’t long until their food came out; this time, a large “California Style” burger and fries. 

They remained in the same spot for nearly three hours, Eddie securely tucked against Richie’s side, laughing at a story’s that they were sharing with each other. Most people had cleared out, leaving in their wake a mess of unfinished plates and dirty napkins, yet the couple stayed, looking picture picture in the pastel lighting.  
I couldn’t begin to fathom how in love they were.  
I began to clean up, listening in on their conversation at times, and I was nearly done when Richie called my name, prompting me to turn and raise an eyebrow at my friends. 

“Okay, okay,” he started, removing his arm from around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Would you agree that—“

“Richie, don’t you fucking dare—“

Richie quickly put his palm against Eddie’s mouth, and grinned when it made Eddie stop talking. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, wouldn’t you agree that Optimus is the perfect fucking name for mine and Eddie’s kids?”

“No, it’s not, Richie!”

“No, it’s not, Richie!” The raven-haired boy mimicked back, and I laughed. He turned to me, continuing on with his speech. “Imagine this: your kid goes to school, meets a new friend, and tells him that his name is Op. And then! When they ask what it’s short for, he says: Optimus.”

“You are literally the dumbest fucking person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting,” said Eddie, and despite his words, his tone was light, and he was looking at Richie with all the love in the world.

“Oh, cry me a river, Edward!”

I cut in before the shorter man could berate his boyfriend’s use of a full name. “I kinda have to agree with Eddie on this one. It’s a dumb name, Rich.”

Richie gasped and feigned a look of shock, clutching his heart in a desperate fashion. “Why, Miss!” he drawled in a somewhat passable southern accent. “I never did think you’d be the one to break my little heart!”

I shrugged. Eddie winked at me.

I spent the rest of my shift talking with them.

 

-

 

The second of January was when I found out about it.

I had gotten pretty close with the group over the past year, occasionally going to parties with them and playing board games when it rained (which is often here in Seattle.) I had taken a liking to Beverly the most, with her exuberant personality and incredible fashion sense, but Richie and Eddie came as a close second. They were a package deal, always a source of envy among the single members of our group, myself included. We were all privy to their constant kisses, banter, and, to the chagrin of most of us, the sexual innuendos that Richie directed at his smaller boyfriend.

The snow outside had piled up so high that it was almost impossible to get through the front entrance of the diner, yet business was booming as per usual. I had the opportunity to work at the bar, which required less effort and guaranteed more time to relax. Thirty minutes into my shift, the bell rang, signaling the arrival of new customers. When I looked up, I was excited (and surprised) to see Eddie and Beverly walking towards me, the red-haired girl’s arm slung across her best friend’s shoulders. The two of them only ever came in alone if there was important news, mostly to let me into the little bubble that was the Losers’ Club’s world, so I waited eagerly for them to greet me.

“Hey Em!” Beverly said, her white teeth on full display as her lips pulled back into an excited grin.

“Hey guys,” I said back. “So… what’s the big news?”  
At this, Eddie’s skin turned a scarlet red, and he stuck out his left hand, where a glittering silver band sat on his ring finger.

“No fucking way, he proposed?” I grabbed Eddie’s hand fast, examining the ring, and he nodded. “You guys are so young!”

Eddie shrugged, the smile on his face never faltering. “I can’t even think of spending the rest of my life with anyone else. He’s always been the one for me, since we were kids.”

“Holy shit, that’s fucking cute!”

Beverly pulled me outside later that night, interlocking our fingers after she had lit a cigarette. “My best friends are fucking engaged and I can’t even get a girlfriend.”

I smiled at her, before looking at the sky, where white flurries fell in hurried dazes. “You’re a catch, Bev.”

She laughed, squeezing my hand, and paused before she spoke again. “These idiots have been in love since before I even knew them. Took them eleven years to realize it.”

“They really are the dream, huh?”

She smiled.


End file.
